This is not heaven. Don't make me Pretend it is.
Why Can’t we get OVER Things?
Maybe it has something to do with the fact that we aren’t
allowed to grieve. Certain Jewish people sit shiva, to grieve…. Grieve is
valued. Grief is Godly. Grief is expected.
What do Christians do? Have funerals; talk about how the
person is with Jesus now, free of pain, and happy. Tell us grievers not to be
so sad because we’ll see them again.
Well, maybe not ALL Christians do that, but I’ve experience
plenty of Christian ‘’theology,” Christian “culture,” and Christian “people” who
do JUST that. You’ve heard me rant about it before, especially each time I
miscarried, a.k.a. LOST A CHILD, lost a LIFE…. A part of myself.
But today, what is it? What can’t I get over. I
lost my uncle, and then, four days later, I lost my cat.
I mainly held strong through my uncle. I cried a little, but
I told myself I wasn’t nearly as sad as those who knew him better, so I was
fine. Plus, he wasn’t a part of my everyday life. I was grieving, mostly, for
those for whom he WAS part of everyday life, and I was grieving for what felt
like lost opportunity and injustice for him, and I was grieving because, gosh,
it is SCARY, not to know WHEN someone could catch this disease which is
basically a death sentence to anyone who has a pre-existing condition that is
harsh enough on the body? So I managed on- I didn’t deserve to grieve obviously.
I didn’t deserve over what was expected of me with my family…. Trying to squash
that grief, because I didn’t deem myself worthy of being allowed to grieve,
even. I shouldn’t feel sad. I don’t deserve too.
But then, a few days later, my cat died. Abraham died.
He deserves more than just a title of ‘’my cat,’’ because Abraham was a life,
and he worked as an instrument of God to carry me through many seasons of life,
for 18.75 years….. of up and down and hardship and finding myself and
loneliness and fears as well as joys and turning many pages into adulthood…..
And You Know What? WE are NOT okay. Me, them, you.
He lived ALMOST 19 years. 19 years, why does that
number matter? Oh yes, that is how long my parents were married, before they
finally parted. I’ve mentioned before, that parting was needed at the time,
desperately, for our survival, but neither of them, in my opinion, ever healed.
And they never reconciled, and that COULD certainly have happened; they loved
each other. They just needed to find that love buried underneath all the hate
and pain…. and honestly, it COULD happen still today, and would do both of them
a great deal of good, once again, in my opinion. But what do I know? Don’t
all kids want their parents back together? It’s just part of attachment
theory! Except it’s more than that for me, I think, at least. It’s because I
see how their separation has affected both of them, even today, I see their
pain from it, and their unforgiveness…as well as need to RECEIVE forgiveness….
and I can also envision what healing could take place in both of their souls if
they were at least to be able to forgive themselves and each other and offer one
another true friendship, without the grievances they hold.
Back to Abraham. That is a long time. I was 17 when my parent’s
divorce was final. I lived 17 years in a growing hell. And then after that, I
lived in a world of not actually knowing what was the truth, and functioning by
oppressing much of the abuse. But that second half of life…. That second 17,
18, 19, 20 years I lived??? With whom and what did I live it ….well, MANY
people…. Here and there, for seasons at a time…..But what presence was there
with me the entire time? My precious cats, Abraham and Gracie Belle.
Jericho bowed out many years earlier, and Jirem joined around that time. And I
always felt bad for having left Jericho behind….believing that if I’d taken him
with me, maybe even he would have survived much longer. Our other pets all
passed away…. Gracie and Abraham were still trucking along; perhaps there was
something to be said of God bringing me out for my own good…. AND for the good
of others. Those cats were taking care of me. I was taking care of them. We
often felt alone, but had one another.
So in grief, I have been….having lost, my companion of
nearly 19 years, who took ALL the giant leaps with me….China (well, he waited
at home), Mercer, Boston, New York, a DOG, Marriage, Going batshit crazy,
finding my way out, Babies, going batshit crazy, finding my way out….ANYTHING,
going batshit crazy, cuddling him and crying and praying to God and finding my
way out….continually…..
I have fond memories of holding my cat….early mornings,
drinking coffee, journaling, reading God’s word, listening, praying….and
Abraham.
CURRENT MOMENT: I was supposed to go to a conference
last night, and today. A conference where Christians would pray for me, where
Christians would be set free, a conference to which I looked forward to going
as it was led by someone with whom my husband has spent most of his last year
via zoom. But what happened? Well I couldn’t go. Yesterday, I felt physically ill
and emotionally unable….I couldn’t move. I just cried. Yesterday was also the
first day since Abers’ passing that I drank no alcohol to take the edge of my
pain. I needed to grieve, without having to be wife, cleaner, mother, sister, daughter,
anything, to any person, except a child of God’s, quite sad and confused and
feeling hopeless. And the kids were headed to the grandparents, so I would
finally have time to fall apart and not need to survive (hence the alcohol use
previously). So I did that… although I could tell Jesse was disappointed, and
although all I really wanted was for him to cancel his conference and stay with
me and let me grieve however I needed AND BE WITH ME IN IT, I grieved alone
last night….with Jirem, and it was sooo strange, because I’m used to be alone,
but with Jirem AND Abraham. I had one less support. I kept wanting to hold Abraham
so that I could GRIEVE the loss of ABRAHAM
But alas, I had asked for that, him to stay with me, once, (which
was all I could muster). I couldn’t dare ask for one of my needs more than
once. And Jesse didn’t get the asking…didn’t hear it….or chose to ignore it…
whatever it was; he said it wasn’t clear to him. He left. He dropped off the
kids. He went to hang out with some people much more fun that who I have
become.
I went to bed early last night, prepping to get ready for
today, snuggling Abraham’s favorite toy stuffed animal. (He liked to carry
clothes and stuffed animals around in his teeth. He was a wonderful mother/I
mean father!) and GO to the conference
(as well as shower since I also had not done that since Abers had been gone).
But I got up, and it was still there, the inability to face the world…..the
inability to function as anything but sad and crying. I told Jesse. I
explained. He didn’t say anything much, nodded maybe. I then forced myself to
shower, saying, “well I’m going to force myself to at least shower,” and so I
did, and it was hard. But I even made myself put on real clothes, although I
prefer pjs daily these days b/c I’ve gained 10 more lbs in the last 2 months
grieving other things, BEFORE I lost my uncle and cat.
Anyway, after I got out the shower and dressed, Jesse asked
if I was ready to go and to pick up our friend and head to the conference. I
once again explained that I had said I couldn’t go, and then I was crying. I
knew Jesse wanted me to meet his new mentor. I knew he wanted me to have people
pray for me. I knew he believed me going would HELP ME, HEAL ME, of so much,
and I knew our friend did as well. So we talked back and forth, Jesse saying
things that guilted me, me explaining they guilted me, Jesse apologizing and
saying it wasn’t his intention. Then I said he needed to leave to pick up our friend.
He messaged her. She wasn’t going either, she messaged back in some form. He
relayed this info to me by insinuating that the reason she wasn’t going was
because I wasn’t going. SO then I felt like not only did I let him down, not
only did I obviously not want healing enough or else I would have gone, but NOW
I’ve let our friend down as well.
Maybe my other friend was right, a week ago, when he made
the joke that he was shocked I was going to the conference. “Megin, leave
the house? I’m shocked!” Yes. I know. I have become quite the complete
loser, not Christian, lost beyond hope person. Yes I know…..I thought. I’m sure
that’s not what he meant. He just makes jokes. I hated myself even more all the
while though.
So Jesse and I have words again, and he keeps saying he wasn’t
meaning to shame or guilt me, regardless of things that obviously, I am
positive, others may understand OBVIOUSLY shamed and guilted me. I think. Maybe
I’m wrong. Maybe I am just….wrong….to the core.
So I lay on the couch crying. I had at least felt somewhat together
before, proud I had showered and was braving real clothes and makeup. I almost
felt pretty, almost. But now it was all a mess from all the tears. What was the
point? I was…I am, a puffy eyed buffoon again.
Anything else you want me to do for you before I go? Jesse
asked….I couldn’t even bear it. I had not thes strength. The same way I have
not the strength even to edit this entry and put in quotation marks here and
there which I am SURE would help this long diatribe make more sense…
….I couldn’t say:
….HOW ABOUT JUST CHOOSE TO STAY WITH ME???!?!! EXCEPT YOU DIDN’T GET TO
TALK ONE-ON-ONE WITH YOUR MENTOR LAST NIGHT, AND SO YOU WANT TO TRY AGAIN, BUT
NO ONE EVEN NEEDS YOU FOR A RIDE, AND THE ENTIRE CONFERENCE IS ALSO BEING
LIVESTREAMED B/C OF COVID…… SO YOU COULD WATCH FROM HOME…..AND DON’T YOU TALK
TO YOUR MENTOR VIA ZOOM??? WE COULD WATCH PARTS TOGETHER????? I couldn’t say
any of that. I was too exhausted, and too discouraged from how much I had
obviously failed the world by needing just to grieve and cry…..and not perform….
SO he left, and I wailed. And I thought….
There is no space to grieve. No space. Just
like why when I called my father, after my uncle (his cousin- actually my
cousin, but he always felt like an uncle) died….why my dad was surprised, and
asked what I was calling for! I said BECAUSE YOUR COUSIN DIED, YOUR FRIEND! “Oh,”
he said “Yes. It’s awful, and didn’t have to happen. It’s just wrong. That was
hard. Anyway, how about what’s going on with the babies?” There you go….my dad
set the example, of not allowing space for grief, but not to his blame…I
bet you no one ever gave him time to grieve either. I finished the
conversation. I brought my uncle up a few more times. Dad told me stories about
him….it helped. I loved hearing them. I would like to think it helped my dad
too. We laughed at the trouble they got into…. I know how much he meant to my
dad, how much my dad loved him…. My dad is not evil that he just tried to move
on….my dad is just a product of THIS WORLD….AND THE CRAPPY CHRISTIAN CULTURE….and
all the things that tell us we can’t grieve…. And my mom as well, but that’s another
story.
So I’m here….alone. I’d like to drink again. That would
at least take the edge off the pain… I wish, however, I could be ‘worth’
someone just sitting with, bored out of their mind maybe, but just keeping me
company while I provided no service, no beauty, no fun, no seemingly Godliness
and faithful statements. I am worth that. I know it in my head, but it’s
hard to believe when it seems others can’t demonstrate it. When
ministry and ministers and mentors are more important than grief; when getting
on, moving ahead, and not missing a day’s work or being sad too long (what I
learned from my childhood) is more important. When it’s more important to
set an example of faith and believe what Scripture says….God withholds no good
thing!!! Or When I should just find something else to look forward to….or find
a way to dissociate as I did much during youth and young adulthood…. Just believe
it didn’t happen. Forget it, and move on. Complete denial, and completely free
of pain. And thrust all hurt into the next boy, or next pet, or next child, or
next job, or next purse, or in being able to lost 30 lbs in a month because one
forces oneself not to eat, or feeling INCREDIBLE because one uses some type of
stimulant or abuses some drug or even something LEGAL but in order to produce
enough dopamine to make it through one day, or until the next legalistic hoop I
could endeavor to jump through in the hopes of earning that final prize of God’s
continual blessing with my health and wealth!!!!! until the next day, enslaved
again.
Why are those things better though….in the end, they lead
to absolute entrapment, slavery…. Why not grief INSTEAD? Well, it doesn’t look
as pretty to our blind eyes and our broken notions of what is strength and
beauty.
Why not let a person cease from functioning to GRIEVE what
never should have been, though….. DEATH NEVER SHOULD HAVE BEEN. There was no
death before sin…. Sin causes death. That’s a lot to grieve. Why not cut people
as much slack as they need, AS WELL AS NOT SHUN THEM, as well as SIT WITH THEM,
and let them grieve…..because THAT is what will really HELP them grieve….more
than just your prayers; I would even challenge, because you are then BEING
CHRIST TO THEM…..THEY HAVE A MODEL OF CHRIST SITTING NEXT TO THEM…..as
opposed to being spoken at them. WHY NOT BE CHRIST FOR THEM and not just TALK
TO CHRIST FOR THEM OR OVER THEM. Why not let the holy spirit move in you and
through you to GET TO THEM when they are too broken to feel hopeful or believe
in truth and understand truth…..WHY NOT BE TRUTH FOR THEM RIGHT NEXT TO THEM AT
A LEVEL TO WHICH THEY CAN TAKE AND NURSE THEM BACK TO HEALTH???? Isn’t that
what it means to bandage a wound…..???
But one doesn’t even bandage a wound until one is sure the wound
is healing from the bottom up…. So sometimes, you can’t even just put a bandaid
over the wound and the pain yet….you have to root out infection……So before you bandaid
with your prayer….SIT WITH THEM….LET THEM CRY AND CALL OUT ALL THE PAIN, ALL
THE INFECTION…. And then, when time, place the salve…. They’ll be ready
then, but until they are ready, why not show them grace instead of the
expectations of performance to pursue their way back to being the right type of
“Christian’’ or person or ANYTHING they should be?
Just a few thoughts….from a person who refuses to squash her
grief, regardless of how unworthy it makes her look and ridiculous it makes her
look or as mental as it makes her look. Perhaps the real people who are
mental are the ones who have completely pushed away an entire part of the
REALITY of the world in which we are in….perhaps what is mental is NOT to
embrace all of reality.
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